


May I Have A Dance?

by StarWolf802



Category: Matthew Patrick/Game Theory, Nathan Sharp/NateWantsToBattle
Genre: I'm Sorry, I'm sorry Mat, Like holy shit sad, M/M, Matpat - Freeform, NateWantsToBattle - Freeform, Natepat, Oh no I'm feeling, Sad, Sorry Not Sorry, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Yep Mat dies, no happy endings here folks, very very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWolf802/pseuds/StarWolf802
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And I wake to the sound of your voice, but you're not here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	May I Have A Dance?

Nate turns, looking around the forest clearing that Mat made him hike to. Sunlight dapples the ground, and a small stream runs along the side. Tall pines rise up all around him, birds singing their little songs, dragonflies flitting across the water. Suddenly, Mat taps him on the shoulder.

"May we dance?" Mat holds out a hand.

Nate smiles, and takes it. There's a strange achy feeling in his chest as Mat leads him in a dance around the clearing, a strange feeling. He doesn't like it. It feels like grief, but why would he feel grief? He's dancing with his soulmate around a summer clearing, with sweet scented air and birdsong around him.

As they stop dancing, Mat smiles, and gently kisses Nate. Nate realizes he missed that, being kissed by Mat. But why? They kissed before they left, and yet it feels like he hasn't felt Mat's lips on his own in weeks. As Mat pulls away, still smiling gently, Nate realizes the birds have stopped singing.

"You know I love you, right?" Mat takes his hand, and Nate nods.

"Of course I do, Mat," Nate says, confused as why Mat is asking this.

"And you love me?"

Nate nods. "Yes, more than you could ever imagine."

It suddenly drops about 40° F in the clearing, and a cold wind blows through. Nate stares in confusion as the stream freezes and the ground becomes covered in snow in a matter of seconds.

"Nate, you need to let go. Let go of the guilt you feel, let go of the anger, let go of the grief, let go of me. It's been three months, please, if you love me, let go of me," Mat whispers.

Nate suddenly remembers. A hallway splattered with blood, Mat's still form, laying lifeless across the blood soaked carpet, brown eyes still open in shock, chest littered with stab wounds. Nate remembers running to the body, holding it close, begging for Mat to wake up, screaming at him to wake up. He didn't wake up.

Nate feels tears start to roll down his cheeks, and holds Mat's hand tighter, not wanting him to slip away again.

"Mat, I can't," he murmurs hopelessly. "I love you, I can't let go of you."

Mat's smile changes to one of sadness. "But you have to. I love you too, Nate, but I'm not here. You have to let go."

The wind blows stronger, and Nate tries to grab Mat, to hold him closer, but he's gone, and he's left in an empty, snowy clearing.

"MAT!"

***

Nate snaps awake, breathing heavy and cheeks wet. He wipes the tears away, wishing he could reach over and feel Mat sleeping next to him, but the things he saw in his dream were true. Mat died three months ago, a failed robbery. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Nate can't help thinking that maybe if he had been here, Mat would still be sleeping next to him - or they'd both be sleeping under the ground.

The tears come in full force now, and he doesn't try to stop them, only gets up and goes to the drawer and takes out a folded leather jacket. He simply holds it, letting the tears drip down onto one of the last physical memories of Mat he has. He slowly unfolds it, looking at it for a second before putting it on hesitantly. It fits him barely, and he sobs, collapsing onto the floor in a heap, cutting his last shred of dignity and finally not holding back, letting all the tears he has to shed flow freely.

After a while, he stiffly and slowly gets up, throat raw and eyes red. He gets dressed, the leather jacket put neatly back in its place. Grabbing his keys and not bothering with food, he walks out his front door, setting off the sidewalk in the six am light.

He walks through the city, face blank, hands in pockets. Soon, he comes across a graveyard, and steps inside, cool night air silent. He slowly walks forwards, staying on the winding path through the graves, walking past countless other people, all resting beneath the Earth, until a spot about in the middle, where he veers off and quickens his pace until he's almost running through the graves, panting by the time he's at the one he wants.

_Matthew Patrick_  
_November 15th, 1987 - September 10th, 2016_  
_Death is just like the curtain call. We're still in the room, just behind the curtain._

Nate reads the inscription on the grave several times, before sitting next to it and leaning against it.

"Hey, Mat," Nate starts. He closes his eyes, imagining Mat is simply sitting beside him.

"Hey. It's, uh, been a while. 91 days. I've..I've been counting," Nate confesses. "It's...it's been difficult. But I know you could get through it, so I will too. Maybe...maybe one day it won't hurt...so much. I hope I'll see you again. I know you don't believe in heaven, and neither do I, but...maybe we'll meet in a forest clearing somewhere. Maybe you'll ask me to dance. Maybe I'll forget."

Nate takes a deep breath. Admittedly, he feels a bit stupid, talking to thin air, but he's wanted to talk, even if there's no answer.

"I miss you, Mat."

And he gets up and walks away, the faint glow of the approaching sunrise behind him. He looks back, and almost swears he sees a pale figure waving at him from the gate. But it's gone in a millisecond.

_'I miss you too, Nate.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Mat dies, yes. He dead. September 10th, folks. It's coming up.


End file.
